


Letters to a deadman

by Suchafangirl23



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: After the Fall, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cute in some parts, John and Sherlock have a daughter, M/M, Please give it a try, Sad, Sad sad John, Sherlock and John got married before the fall, Sherlock comes back, Will get better I promise, give it a chance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 11:35:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8623054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suchafangirl23/pseuds/Suchafangirl23
Summary: John is trying hard to get over Sherlock's death. As is their six year old daughter, Violet Scott Watson Holmes. Will the two of them be able to heal? Or do miracles happen after all?Will writing letters to a dead man bring one back to life?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first work in this fandom.  
> I hope you guys enjoy it!  
> *Bows*

My dearest, my Sherlock,  
Violet was in your old room today. The room where I locked every piece of you away. It hurts too much to look at these objects that remind me of you and realize that you aren't here anymore. I can't even begin to try and explain how much it hurts knowing you're not here with me. With our beautiful daughter.

I had been calling Violet's name for a good five minutes when I heard muffled sniffling coming from that room. When I opened the door, I saw her curled up in your old robe on the floor. Crying. My heart broke, Sherlock. Her small body was snuggled into it so tight and she had her nose pressed into it. I heard her little voice repeating the same word, "papa, papa, papa." Over and over again she said it. Her soft voice broke everytime.

She saw me standing in the door way and her bright big eyes that remind me of you gathered more tears and she curled into an even tighter ball. I sat on the floor, picked her up and held her close. Her thin arms wrapped around my neck as she cried into the front of my jumper.  
I felt her pain. We share the same kind, after all. She lost her papa. I lost the love of my life. It's too great a loss.

She wouldn't get out of that god damned robe.  
Everytime I tried to take her out of it, she would cry harder and yell, "Papa! Papa! Don't take papa!" It's safe to say that your favorite robe is now her most valuable possession. It's truly a remarkable sight seeing her curled up in the blue silk with her blonde curls showing brightly against it. I wish you were here to witness it and store the precious image in your Mind Palace.

My love, I must sleep. The days are getting harder. If only you were here with me. I miss the warmth of you. I miss the way your body fit so perfectly against mine. I miss your voice and your morning breath. Most of all, I miss you being alive.

Sincerely,

Your John


	2. Chapter 2

Hello, again, my love,

It's another day. Another day of me missing you and trying so very hard to just keep moving forward. It's harder than I thought it would be.

I had another nightmare. Woke up in a cold sweat around 4 this morning. A part of me was expecting to hear you playing your violin. Those soft melodies I miss quite a bit always could put me at ease. When it came to my PTSD dreams, that is.

This dream wasn't about the war. It was so much worse than those dreams. The dream was about you jumping. Everything was the same as it was on that day. Except the call. The words you said through the phone are what made it so horrible.

I was standing on the ground, looking up at you. I thank god that Violet didn't have to see her papa jump of the top of our home. You called and I answered it. Your words weren't the same. Your voice was harsh.

"I'm going mad, John." You spoke into the phone, voice cold. "I'm going mad because it was a mistake marrying you and having a child with you." You laughed into the phone, Sherlock. Your voice was so dismissive and cruel. "You're just so painfully boring, John and that little girl you call our child...sometimes I just want to strangle her. Just know that you drove me to this point. Goodbye, John." And you jumped.

I woke in a cold sweat. My chest going up and down too quickly. I had a panic attack. I'm guessing I must have yelled out in my sleep because Violet rushed into the room and climbed up on the bed.

Her big eyes shined with worry as she crawled up and put her tiny hands on my cheeks. "It's okay, dada." She told me in a stern voice as she looked me in the eye. "Just a nightmare, dada. Everything's okay." I smiled and kissed her golden curls. "Thank you, love.  
I'm sorry for waking you." 

Apparently, our little girl had been up for a long time. Complained her mind was working at too great a speed for her to sleep. She is more and more like you everyday. She is starting to have a fondness for bees, just like her papa. Violet has also grown to love honey. The little thing puts it on anything edible. Even Chinese food.

My love, I'm going to visit you today and bring flowers. Blue orchids. Someone keeps stealing the flowers I take to you. It is rather strange. Who would steal flowers off a grave? It's beyond me. I hope you like the orchids. I think they would look stunning as a crown placed on top of your black curls.

Sincerely,  
Your John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are a gift. Please leave me some? Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a cousin from America and little V learns to do cartwheels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are love. Leave me some?

To my dearest,

There was a man standing by your grave the other day when I went to visit. He was tall and slender with red hair. When he heard me approaching, he turned and looked at me with a kind smile. "Ah. You must be my cousin's husband. John, correct?" His voice was American. You never told me about a distant American cousin, Sherlock. 

"Depends on who's asking." I told him simply, my voice flat." I thought he'd get upset and leave me be but he just smiled kindly. "I'm not surprised old Sherl never mentioned me. We were close when we were boys. Time and distance made staying close difficult. Hard to write letters when you don't know an address. I'm his cousin, Andrew Ebble." He stuck out a hand. His wedding ring was gold and simple with an engraving I couldn't quite read. We shook hands and talked for a bit.

He reminds me of a more outgoing you. His eyes are a bit like yours. More green and simple. Yours were chaotic and beautiful. He apologised that he wasn't at the funeral. "Couldn't catch a flight on time. People would've just asked who I was, anyway. Not many Holmes's remember my family all that well. I'm sure Sherl even forgot about me." We talked for a tad bit longer until he looked at his watch and winced.

"Oh. Well, I have to go. It was nice meeting you, John. Here's my number and email if you ever need anything. My family and I would like it very much to be close to who is left of Sherl." He's a nice man, your cousin. I hope to see and visit with him again.

Our precious daughter has learned how to do cartwheels. She cartwheels every where now. Yesterday, we were at the market getting milk. I turn around to ask her if there's anything she'd like to snack on and she was doing cartwheels up and down the aisle. You should have seen all the looks she had shot her way. Apparently, people don't find a six year old doing gymnastics cute anymore. As you always said, "people are idiots."

Greg came by to visit today. He brought Violet a gift from a crime scene he was working on. It's a beautiful gold and silver ring with a crown design. It was given to Greg by the poor woman's mother. "The ring was suppose to be her graduation gift for college." Poor girl was murdered by a jealous ex lover. She was 22. 

Violet absolutely loves the ring. It's a bit big for her to wear but she says once she grows a bit bigger she will never take it off. She gave Greg the biggest hug and a kiss on the cheek. The poor bloke didn't know what to do. He hugged her back and patted her fluffy blonde curls. He left after he had a cup of tea with me. He's taken up smoking again. It appears your death has effected everyone. Even Anderson and Sally. We all miss you.

I have a lot of work to do at the clinic tomorrow. I have to try and get some decent sleep. The nightmares just won't give me a moment of peace. They're still about you. I'd rather have the war ones. I love you. Violet loves you. 

Missing you always,

Your John


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Depression, depression.  
> What an evil creature it is.

To my love,

I'm sorry I haven't written. I've wanted too, but couldn't find the words. The depression has come again. Usually, I can power through it. For our Violet. But, it's much worse this time around. It hasn't been this bad since The Fall.

I find it hard to get out of bed. I find it even harder to eat or even think properly. For her safety and well being, I have sent her to your parents for a time. Just a small amount, of course. Just until I'm mentally fit again. I feel as though I am failing as a parent.

I forgot her at school, Sherlock. I have never once done that. I completely forgot her. I forgot that it was Monday. I thought it was Saturday and that she was being watched by Mrs. Hudson while I made a trip to the market. 

When I got home, I went to fetch her. You can imagine how shocked Mrs. Hudson was when I stopped by asking for our daughter. "Dear, today is Monday. I'm afraid she's still at school." Looking at my watch, I was terrified to see that it was nearly four. As you know, Vi gets out at two. I was two hours late to pick up our little daughter, Sherlock!

When I got to the school, her teacher was waiting with her on the front steps. Vi immediately ran and hugged me. "Dada!" I promptly picked her up and kissed her forehead again and again while apologizing profusely to her. The teacher scolded me. "Perhaps it would be best if you set a reminder for when your daughter gets out of school. Being two hours late is simply unacceptable." I apologized to her. Even though all I wanted to do was say piss off to her and spit on her far too pointy shoes.

Will you forgive me if I cut this letter short, my dearest? I find that I'm too exhausted to write any longer. Vi is suppose to call in an hour for our nightly chat. I read to her from one of her favorite books. She always asks when she can come home. "Soon love, dada just needs to get better so he can care for you properly." I am sorry if I don't write again soon. I'm desperately trying to get better with the depression.

I love you and I'm so sorry that I'm failing you.

With endless love,

Your John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos would give me so much joy. Thank you for reading! ❤


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John reminisces on an old photo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not in letter format! I'm switching back and forth from letters to actual writing. There might be future chapters in Sherlock's point of view!

John groaned as his alarm clock blared from the bedside table. Reaching over, he pressed the snooze button. He didn't want to get up. He didn't want to go to work. He didn't want to human. 

Sighing, he scrubbed a hand down his face. A bit prickly. He should probably shave. Then again, there were lots of things he should do. 

He should be a decent father. He should eat. He should shower and shave. He should get out of this slump he was in. He knew all the things he should do. His mind and body just wouldn't let him.

John pulled back the warm comforter groggily and got to his feet. He swayed a bit as he walked to the dresser to pull out some clothes. He got side tracked by a picture that was placed on top of the piece, however. A sad smile graced his quivering lips as he picked up the photo gently.

The photo was of him and his love. Sherlock was kissing his hand. Where the ring was placed. It was the photo taken on the day Sherlock had proposed.

His Sherlock was never a man of sentiment. Why, when they first met Sherlock has said he was married to his work. He proposed in a simple yet adorable matter. Thinking about it made John's heart ache with loss.

They had gone out for dinner. Angelo's, of course. When they arrived everything was set up. Candles, music, and dinner. John had just shrugged it off, thinking that Sherlock was doing an experiment on how a person reacts in a romantic setting. It was only when Sherlock pulled out a sleek black box and placed it on the table, facing John, that he became more alert.

"John." Sherlock began, his voice shaking uncharacteristically. John had raised an eyebrow at him. 

"As I'm sure you've discovered, I love you. Very much." John's heart had given a painful jump. 

"It doesn't take a genius like myself to understand the feelings I have when I look at you. I know that I never want to see you holding the hand of any other. I don't want someone who isn't me to see that smile you have every morning after your cup of tea. In short, I don't want anyone else to have you. Mind, body, or soul."

With that, Sherlock took the box in his hand, stood, walked over to John and got down on one knee before him. John's heart stopped beating as his breath caught. 

"John Hamish Watson. My heart. My conductor of light, will you please give me the gift of calling you mine, forever?" 

He opened the box and inside was a simple but perfectly beautiful gold ring, with an engraving on it. 

John had stood up, took the box from Sherlock's hand and kissed him. When he was finished, Sherlock had looked at him a bit stupidly and asked: "so, that's a yes, then?"

"Oh God, yes."

___

The picture had been taken by one of Mycroft's many cameras that lined the streets of London. The next day, they found it on their door step along with a note that read:

"Congratulations, Baby Brother. May the wedding be joyful."

 

John laughed as he recalled the way Sherlock had scoffed and muttered, "sentiment." As he placed a kiss on John's forehead.

He looked at the photo one last time before he set it down and headed for the bathroom to shower. Feeling a bit lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos I adore. Please leave me some? Thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you miss me?

Oh, how I miss you. 

I miss the way you smell when you first wake up. 

I miss your little sleepy grin and the way you unconsciously turn your body into mine. 

I miss your tea and your god awful blog titles. 

I miss holding your hand and cuddling on the sofa with Violet nestled snug between us. 

Oh, my love. My john.

I miss you so much.

I don't know when I'll be able to return to you. I wish I could call. Even a text would do. But, I cannot risk our daughter's and your safety. I cannot. 

I will not.

Please, my heart, keep pushing on. I promise I will return to you and our precious one in one piece. I must keep you safe. 

Mycroft will be there for you. Anything Violet and you might need, he will take care of it. That was one of my conditions before I jumped. 

I'm so sorry. Words couldn't even begin to describe how terribly sorry I am. 

I hope, when I finally return to you, to V, that you are able to forgive me. 

I'm afraid I must go, my love. I've stayed in one place for too long. I wish I could let you know that I am very much alive. I wish I could make all this darkness fade and be gone completely. The universe is rarely so kind.

I'm sorry.

I miss you.

I miss our Violet.

I miss home.

I love you.

Forever yours,

Your Sherlock


	7. Chapter 7

Dearest,

V has taken to playing the violin. She was always staring at yours. It's the only part of you I couldn't lock away. So, I took her to a little shop that sells child sized instruments. You should have seen the way our Violet's eyes twinkled as she spotted the violin that was sat in the corner of the small but well kept shop. I can't believe we had never noticed it before because it's just a few shops away from Angelo's.

She ran up to it and delicately traced one of the strings with a small finger. 

"Daddy," she said, not taking her eyes away from it, "I'd like to have this one? Please, daddy?"

She turned to look up at me. I blame you for that pout of hers. It's exactly like yours and I could never say no when you used it against me.

We walked up with it and the shop keeper, a kind looking older gentlemen smiled and greeted us. 

"Ah! A violin. An excellent choice. I was afraid no one would ever buy this beautiful instrument. It's been gathering dust far longer than it should've!"

I chuckled and nodded.

"Her father use to play." 

He nodded and looked down at Violet. 

"You'll take good care of this, yes?" He asked as he placed a gentle hand on the instrument. 

Our little one nodded her head so quickly and the reply she gave to him broke my heart and filled it with joy at the same time. 

"Papa always took care of his! Papa would be disappointed if I didn't take care of mine."

After paying and thanking the kind man, we left the store and headed home. Violet was holding the instrument to her chest and plucking at the strings as we walked. 

She's at her lesson now. She's been back home with me for two weeks. I'm slowly getting better, thanks to your parents, Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft.

I still miss you. I'll probably never stop.

I have to go, my love. Her lesson should be finishing up.

I love you.

Entirely yours,

John Watson-Holmes


	8. Chapter 8

A sweet melody greets John as he wakes up. Rubbing a hand across his face, he lays back and listens to the calming notes from Violet's violin. The music lessons that Mycroft's been paying for are certainly helping. He reminds himself to thank Mycroft when he comes over for tea and to spend some time with his niece.

The small alarm clock on his night stand reads 7:03 a.m. in bold red letters. He actually slept through the night. Violet is always up around this time. Sighing, he pushes the warm comforter back. He winces as the chilly air hits his shoulder. Choosing to ignore the dull ache from the joint, he gets up and shuffles to his dresser. He smiles softly at the photograph of him and Sherlock that sits on top of it. 

He opens a drawer and pulls out a light blue button up, throws it on the bed. Opens another drawer and pulls out a pair of worn jeans, tosses them on the bed as well.   
Next, he pulls out simple cotton briefs, closing the drawer, he sluggishly walks back to his bed and begins taking off his sleeping wear.

The melody continues to play. Soft and sweet. He begins to sway to the soft notes as he dresses for the day. He has shopping to do and papers to drop off at the clinic. Even though it's Saturday, he has quite a bit to do.

Violet will stay at home with Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson or as Violet has knighted her "Nana", the woman always smiles when she calls her that. 

Finishing with the last few buttons of the shirt, he walks back to the dresser and pulls out an old pair of Sherlock's socks. Leave it to a genius consulting detective to own socks with little penguins on them. John chuckles as he slips them on his feet.

It's less painful to wear things of his and to reminisce now that it's been a year. Most of Sherlock's things are in 221c which Mrs. Hudson had rented out to John when Violet had declared that " she is seven and would like her own room. It's only logical, dada". Mrs. Hudson had agreed right a way. 

"A growing girl needs some space, dear."

Her birthday party had been simple. Family was there, along with Andrew, Sherlock and Mycroft's cousin from America, his wife and four year old boy.

"She's got Sherlock's crazy curls, John."

He walks out into the living room and smiles at his daughter. Her eyes are closed and she moves the bow across the strings, graceful and elegant. She is wearing her papa's favorite blue robe and John holds back a snicker because it's a bit big and her small seven year old body. She poems her eyes and grins at him before bringing the music to a stop.

"What did you think, dada?" She asks, her mercury colored eyes showing nervousness. John gives around of applause and grins widely at her.

"Absolutely brilliant, my little bee! Stunning!"

She giggles and informs him, " you're silly, dada." He grins and shrugs. 

"Well, you're not wrong."

Turning and walking into the kitchen, he begins cooking a simple breakfast of French toast. 

"Dada?" Violet's small voice inquires as she strolls into the kitchen and sits at the table. The blue silk robe slides over the chair and pulls onto the floor.

He hums and dips the bread in the batter and throws it onto the pan.

"How'd you and papa meet?"

The question makes him pause. After a beat or two of silence he answers truthfully.

"You're papa saved me. He met me at the worse time of my life. I was just back from over seas and barely living. I happened to run into an old friend from school and he introduced us. This was of course long before you were born but it's important that you know. He asked me to share a flat with him and I agreed. He saved me many times, my little bee. More times then I can remember." 

He clears his throat and blinks rapidly, trying to stop the stinging in his eyes.

"You saved papa, too, dada."

He chuckles and gives her a plate of French toast.

"What makes you say that, hmm?"

"Because you loved him. You loved each other. And Nana always says love is the most powerful thing. You loved papa and you saved him just like he saved you because that's what people who love each other do."

He swallows around the lump in his throat and presses a kiss to his daughters curly blonde hair. 

"Thank you, my little bee."

Violet merely hums and eats her breakfast, a soft smile on her pale face.


	9. Chapter 9

Everything hurt. 

The chains were tight on his wrist and ankles. The metal digging and cutting into his dehydrated and famished skin. The metal cut the skin life paper. Infection was kicking in, causing him to see hallucinations of his loved ones.

"Papa!" Yelled his daughter as she approached him slowly. 

"Violet..." He breathed as the small blonde haired girl sat down just in front of him. Still out of reach but so, so close.

"Papa, when are you coming home? Me and daddy miss you..." said his daughter. Her mercury colored eyes were glassy with tears and her bottom lip puffed out in an unhappy pout.

Taking a breath, he looked up at his daughter through hazy eyes. She had his love's blonde hair. He hissed as the slashes on his back came into contact with the grime covered wall.

"I don't know, my little bee." He told her as a lump formed in his throat. How long had he been away? How many people had he killed? How long had he been imprisoned and tortured? When would he return back to his family? Back to his John and his Violet? How much more would he have to endure?

The child's face twisted into an unhappy sneer. 

"We nee you, papa! Fight! Papa, you have to fight!" 

The image of his daughter began to fade. Fear settled deep and heavy into his weak body. 

"Violet!" He yelled as he lifted his abused and shackled hands, reaching for the fading image of his daughter. Her voice ringing in his head like bells. Again and again.

"Fight, Papa! You have to fight!"

Fight. He had to fight. He had to hold on. Just a little bit longer. Long enough for Mycroft to step in. He could last.

He had too.

For Violet.

For John.

"I will, my little bee," he whispered to the empty space where his daughter had sat.

"I will hold on. I will fight. I promise."


	10. Chapter 10

It's an ordinary day. John wakes up, wakes Violet, makes them both breakfast ( oatmeal with honey for V, toast and tea for John) and then he walks V down to Mrs. Hudson since it's Saturday and there's no school. He kiss both his daughter and landlady on the cheek and pops out to go to Tesco's.

In the last two and a half years, almost three, he's gotten a lot better. It isn't hard to get dressed or take care of himself. He smiles more and he doesn't feel the hollowness. The sadness is still there but he knows it'll never truly go away. 

Violet Watson Holmes is now eight and showing signs of her Papa's brilliance. She deduced easily even though she sometimes gets things wrong but everyday she gets better. She plays the violin at school and John always makes sure to make it to the concerts. Even Mycroft shows and brings her roses and kisses her curly blond head. John still wears his wedding ring because even though his love is gone, he still considers himself taken and married.

Tesco's is busy for a Saturday. John smiles at the people he passes in the aisles and says hello to babies in carts. He picks up Jam, honey, fruit, cheese and bread along with some toiletries. He doesn't notice the man that's been following him through every aisle. He doesn't notice the matching ring that placed on the others fingers. He doesn't notice how the man's fingers tremble, aching to reach out.

He doesn't notice his very much alive husband.

He checks out and makes small talk with the cashier. She's a pretty woman with dark chocolate brown hair and dark green eyes. Handing over the money needed, John says keep the change and wishes her a good day.

On his way home he feels like he's being watched but ignores it. His brother in law has cameras set up every where so he blames the feeling on that.

He walks in and sees a note on Mrs. Hudson's door that says they went for a walk in the park and that they'd be back in a few hours. Nodding at the note, he makes his way up to his home.

He hums and sings quietly as he puts away the groceries. He doesn't hear the door open or someone walk in. But he does hear a voice that he thought he'd never hear again. 

Turning around he blanches at the sight in front of him.

His husband stands in front of him. He's too pale and skinny. He looks like he hasn't showered in weeks.

"John." Sherlock's voice is hoarse, a rough whisper and he looks like he wants to reach out but is too afraid to. 

John hears a crash and the sound of glass breaking. He's dropped the jam but he can't be arsed to care. Not when his husband stands in front of him. Pale and thin but very much alive.

"Sherlock...." 

He finds himself gathered in a crushing embrace and his husband's nose at his neck. 

The detective is shaking and clinging to him as though he's his only life line.

"I'm sorry, my love, my John I'm so sorry."

John hugs him back and he's crying. Tears roll down his face and unto his husband's shoulder. He's staring into the eyes of his best friend and true love.

Sherlock kisses him and John moans as his rough stuble scraps against sensitive skin of his neck.

His husband's alive.

"You utter cock," John sobs when Sherlock pulls away. "You absolute prick!"

Sherlock says I'm sorry like a mantra as he kisses any where he can reach.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, Sherlock Watson Holmes!" He says swatting his husband's chest and almost loosing it again when he feels the steady beating of a heart.

"But first, a shower because you're absolutely filthy."

Grabbing his wrist, he drags a dazed Sherlock behind him.

Alive. 

He's alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are my life blood. Please be kind and leave me some?


End file.
